


to render sweet meats salt

by trill_gutterbug



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Facials, M/M, Shame Edward Little Power Hour, a thing i was Not into before ned little's eyelashes but here we are apparently, as the old song goes... apple / edward little / jeans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trill_gutterbug/pseuds/trill_gutterbug
Summary: Hickey stood like a fulcrum with one hand on Solomon’s shuddering back and the other in Edward Little’s hair.
Relationships: Cornelius Hickey/Lt Edward Little/Sgt Solomon Tozer, Cornelius Hickey/Sgt Solomon Tozer, Lt Edward Little/Sgt Solomon Tozer
Comments: 27
Kudos: 55





	to render sweet meats salt

**Author's Note:**

> Listen... Just go with it.
> 
> Title from [here](https://www.shatnerchatner.com/p/the-best-thing-about-very-old-recipes).

Hickey stood like a fulcrum with one hand on Solomon’s shuddering back and the other in Edward Little’s hair. It was dark in the hold, which was nearly empty, but he had brought a candle. Balanced on a barrel next to them, it cast flattering light on their little tableaux. Little’s open, trembling mouth was lush with shadow, his upper lip golden. His hands, clasped on his folded thighs, were shown to beautiful effect - the thick knuckles, the coarse hair on his wrists, the erect tendons. Solomon’s left hand, knotted in the shoulder of Little’s jacket, was no less stirring. Hickey observed all this with a high pulse and a calm demeanour. His heart beat in his tongue and behind his eyes, but he encouraged Solomon with only a gentle murmur. This whole tenuous conceit was predicated on his serene involvement, on the fiction of being aloof, even if he felt anything but. 

Solomon’s breath stammered, hand spasming on his cock. “ _Fuck_ ,” he gasped. “Shit, I -”

“There you are, Sergeant,” Hickey whispered. He pressed the dip of Solomon’s spine, easing him closer to Little, who looked up with an insensible expression. The daft creature had capitulated to the whole thing much easier than Hickey expected, skipping entirely the lengthy courtship of convincing Hickey had planned. All it took, apparently, was the right sly word and commanding eye contact at the perfect moment. It undoubtedly hadn’t hurt that Solomon had stood behind Hickey, silent but large-eyed, making his own wordless case with his sleeves rolled up for labour and his collar unbuttoned. Neither of them would have dreamed up such a thing, Hickey was sure, without his intervention. It wasn’t in either of their natures - either the act or the confidence to attempt it. Hickey had no excuse for any of it himself except prurient interest and a desire to test his own capabilities. Besides which, they were abandoning ship in a few days - it was good to stretch his wings first. Good to be owed favours and possess secrets. 

He felt the muscles in Solomon’s back knot. He dug his nails in, coaxing, and tightened his other hand in Little’s soft curls. Fluffy thing, Lieutenant Little, smelling clean and floral even now, after such privation, on the eve of their departure into the great wild unknown. Hickey had tugged loose the scarf around Little's neck before guiding him to his knees, so that the line of his neck and collarbones were visible in the candlelight. His throat moved in a swallow, while his mouth made a desperate, strangled noise. His gaze was riveted by Solomon’s flying hand. Hickey looked there too, mouth wet with sympathy. Solomon’s cock was a beauty, his technique of stripping it downright savage. Hickey couldn’t see the erection Little must have been sporting in his trousers, but he felt sympathy for it, too. His own cock was hard as nails in his britches. It remained to be seen how he’d like it taken care of. First: this. 

This: Solomon groaning a curse and seizing like a clenched fist. His hand faltering in its pace. His cock jerking, flushed pink in the rosy light, and his spunk spraying over Little’s face. Little flinched at the first shot, which took him across the mouth, but Hickey was ready and held him still in a sharp grip. The second spattered his cheek and the third the bridge of his nose, but the fourth and fifth did the best work. Hickey bit his tongue at the sight of Little’s long eyelashes, thick and dark, drenched with Solomon’s spend. They fluttered, dripping, as Little moaned aloud. 

“There, now,” said Hickey, breathless, pulling Little’s neck back. “That’s lovely, Lieutenant, you’ve behaved so -” And then he broke off, astounded, as, with a sobbing cry, Little’s body arched in an unmistakable paroxysm of ecstasy. 

"Jesus," groaned Solomon, his forearm still flexing with the last of his strokes. He stumbled forward as his grip on Little's shoulder slipped. Little whined through his teeth, shaking, limp in Hickey's grasp.

As they both gasped, finishing off, Hickey couldn't help an astonished laugh of delight. He let Solomon go and took Little's face in both hands. Little's slack, gasping mouth opened for Hickey's thumb, for the slick of seed Hickey pushed onto his tongue. His eyes were shut, wetted, but Hickey smiled down at him nonetheless. "Oh, Lieutenant," he murmured, "I think you and I will do great things together." 

Little blinked up at him, bright eyes vacant, and didn’t say a word.


End file.
